Ever Thought of Decaf?
by MaddoxTheInvincible
Summary: Tweek is the new kid in South Park. Soon he meets all the gang and starts to fall for a certain black-haired, six-foot-four, chullo-clad boy named Craig. But it's impossible to see what Craig is feeling through those gray, stone-cold eyes. Rated T for language. Hints of Dristophe, K2, Tyde and Stendy throughout. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! This is my first story on this site, but trust me, I'm pretty sure it won't be that bad. This is a Creek thing. I love that pairing so much. I thought I would make Tweek the new kid as oppose to Craig, because...I dunno, I feel like it. Oh, and if you think I own South Park and the characters and stuff, you have issues. Enjoy the chapter!**

**-M**

I really didn't want to move to this place. I'm a nervous wreck already—a full-blown coffee addict, devoid of any attention from pretty much anyone, since my parents are always working. For months, I've longed to be smiled at, or hugged, loved, or even just acknowledged. I can't even get my say in moving—our coffee shop closed and the only thing we can do is move and try to make it in another location.

I wish my parents got PhDs so they wouldn't have to pay the bills through a fucking coffee shop.

Anyway, my first day of school in South Park is approaching, and, as usual, I get nervous. This town is known for its crazy educational system, and even crazier townspeople. My parents know I'm gonna go nuts—why the hell would they move me here? I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb, I just know it. People are going to call me names—Spazzo, Twitchy. The worst one, though, is Tweek the Coffee Freak. Yeah, it's catchy, but it hurts sometimes. People are going to hate me, I just know it.

Here I go. It's time to go to school. I've been up all night, looking over the school's handbook and my new schedule. By the time morning comes, I'm a total fucking mess. My eyes have dark eggplant circles beneath them, and the green in them is a pale vomit color. If what I look like makes me sick to my stomach, just imagine what the other kids will think! I tug my hair nervously, my hands shaking to grab my hairbrush and attempt to tame the bale of hay on my head that is my "glorious mane" or whatever the fuck they call it.

My coffee tastes gross today, and I let out a groan, even though I know no one can hear me. Mom is probably at work already, and Dad is probably on his lazy ass, asleep. Sometimes I wonder if they know that they even have a son, and he needs a little help right now. I frown at the thought and finish my coffee, only to pour more of it into a thermos for later. I slip the thermos into my pre-packed backpack, and zip it up.

Here goes nothing...

The school smells faintly of something burning as I walk into it. My senses are pretty sharp—I always need to be prepared, just in case the Gnomes ever declare war on humankind. I know I'm being ridiculous, but I can't stop. I keep thinking about gnomes as I find my locker

1261. This one's it. I put in my combination, and tug. It doesn't open. Dammit, my hands must be shaking and I don't even know it. I try again, and again, and again.

"What the fuck is wrong with this thing?" I mutter, frustrated.

"What're you doing?" A voice behind me makes me jump and turn around, jolted. Looming over me is a huge boy with hair so black it looked blue and grey eyes that make me twitch with discomfort. He's so gorgeous, it's intimidating. I cower against the still-closed piece of shit that is the locker.

"T-Trying to open my locker." I mumble, mesmerized by his icy gaze.

"No." he says flatly. "That's my locker. THIS is your locker." he motions to the one next to him. Locker 1263.

I fumble for my schedule. Sure enough, he's right. I feel myself turn a shade of red that's so dark it's probably not even red anymore.

"Oh...ngh—sorry..." I whisper, turning to get away from the six-foot-six giant that's scaring the living shit out of me. I do the combination. It opens with ease. Shaking slightly, I unload all my stuff into the small space when I hear the giant talk again.

"So...are you the new kid here?" he asks awkwardly. He doesn't seem like the type to make conversation.

"Y-Yes. M-my parents made me."

"Oh." he mumbles, grabbing his stuff and slamming the locker shut. "Wait, what's your name, dude?"

"Tw-Tweek." I say, embarassed. I feel like everything about me to him is disappointing.

"Cool. Well, I'm Craig. I guess I'll see you around." he nods his head and I mimic him as he leaves, towering over the other students.

"Oh, and, hey, new kid." he turns to look at me over his shoulder. I twitch in response.

"Ever tried decaf?" he asks, smiling.

****It may have been the dim lighting of the school hallways, but I thought I saw him wink.

**Tadaa!**

**Yeah, I write short chapters...sorry. So yeah, review and tell me what you think, and what should happen! I must admit, I kinda pulled this out of my ass just to get a story on here. I'm gonna spend tomorrow thinking about what direction I want to take and stuff. But I will try to incorporate some other, minor pairings, too. Okay, bye awesome people!**

**-M**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter 2! Kind of a filler, so Tweek meets everyone. Don't worry, I try to put in some more drama later on. Also, I'm thinking of putting some K2 and some Stendy and Tyde for the background. The next chapter will probably have some of those pairings.**

**Enjoy this chapter!**

**-M**

It turns out that the skyscraper that helped me with my locker is also in my Algebra class. (He's really easy to spot, his head rising above all the others'.) As the teacher introduces me, though, I think I see the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile as I twitch nervously. Standing in front of the whole class is too much pressure, even though this class is advanced, and, due to the stupidity of the people in our town, there were only a few people.

"Everyone, say hello to our new student, Tweek Tweak."

I pull my hair anxiously as I see two girls giggling and whispering to one another. Craig glares at them and, while the teacher isn't looking, flips them the finger behind his back. They stop whispering and start glaring. Frantic, I look around for an empty place to sit at. Time to start at the bottom and work my way up.

"Hey, you can sit with us, if you want." a smallish boy with auburn hair and greenish-brown eyes gestures me over to a table. I jump about ten feet in the air, but I smile a little as I take a seat with three other boys.

"I'm Kyle, it's nice to meet you." the redhead says, right on cue.

"Thanks, it's n-nice to—ngh—meet you, too." I was genuinely happy. I was grateful, too—I hadn't been this lucky in my other school.

Kyle snaps my attention back to him as he introduces me to the rest of the table. "Tweek, this is Token." he says, motioning to an average size African-American guy whose eyes seem warm and welcoming.

"Hey, dude! Welcome to South Park!" he gives me a friendly pat on the arm. I feel myself jolt. Dammit!

"Nervous, huh?" Token merely chuckles at my twitchiness.

"And this is Kenny." Kyle points to an attractive blond in an orange hoodie. His skin is lightly freckled and he has a permanent smirk etched onto his elfish face. Automatically, his presence makes me feel a bit calmer.

"Nice to meet you, man." he offers me a half-assed handshake. I take it without question.

Kyle leans in and whispers loudly so everyone can hear. "I can't believe he made it into Advanced Algebra." I chuckle. Kenny shoots Kyle a look of mock anger.

"And, well, I'm guessing you know Craig." Kyle says.

"Yeah—ngh!—I accidentally, uh, tried to open his locker..." I say quietly. The boys chuckle. I can't seem to put my finger on what Craig's feeling. The amused twinkle in his eye clashes with the bored look on his face.

"Boys, are you going to get to work or not?" our teacher barks.

"Yes, Ms. Benson." Kyle assures the old woman. "We're just introducing ourselves."

Kenny rolls his eyes at Kyle's unwilling to get in trouble. The shit-eating grin he shoots me afterward is priceless.

In the corner of my eye, I see Craig's face harden even more.

English is my favorite class. I'm good with words, I understand them. I looked at the door. Room 503, Honors English. Stepping inside tentatively, I find a room with about fifteen students, and it looks like I was the last one. I take a seat at an empty table and take out my notebook. I scribble down more of the story I have been writing for the last month. It's about a young boy who's parent neglected him for so long, he forgot everything about them. Someone tells him about them and he sets out to find them and get his revenge, insanity eating away at his brain. Sound familiar? Yeah, ecause it's based on my life.

I continue to write and get so into it that I don't hear someone sit next to me.

"What're you writing?"

"GAH!" I jump, turning to look into slate-grey eyes that give me a calculating look.

"F-Fuck, Craig, don't—ngh!—do that!" I cry out, hugging my notebook to my chest.

"Can I see it?" he asks, pointing to my notebook. I have never showed anyone this story, so how will he react? What if he hates it and think I'm a suckish writer? What if he decides I'm not worth his time? I stifle the panicky thoughts with a swig of the now lukewarm coffee.

"Uh..."

Shit! Now he's gonna think I'm a retard, I know it.

Gently, he pries my hands away and takes the notebook before I can say anything. He turns to the first page and begins to read. The words I wrote down begin to replay in my mind as I picture him reading.

I look over at Craig, trying to decipher his thoughts. I concentrate on his eyes, how they widen at certain details in the story. I do this for a while, the anticipation inside me growing as he finishes the last page.

Craig puts down the notebook, and gives me a look of something unintelligible.

"You wrote that." he says, more of a statement than a question. I nod.

"It's not—ngh!—done yet." I tell him.

"Well, tell me when you finish it, because that was probably the best thing I've ever read." he mutters, his flat voice not matching the words coming out of his mouth.

I nod quickly and let out an inaudible sigh, the joy and triumph overwhelming.

He liked it!

He liked it!

"Just tell me, Tweek." he murmurs, looking into the distance. I follow his icy gaze, but nothing's there. "Was this based on anything?"

Before I could answer, the teacher tells us to be silent.

I sigh again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two chapters in a day! Yay! Thanks to the reviews I got from some people, and the favorites I got and stuff! I'm totally beat, I had to babysit 3 annoying kids today. I got money, though :3 But yeah, here's chapter 3. It's a long one, and kinda just introductions for starters, but it'll heat up a little in the end. ;) (Nothing that'll change the rating, though.) Enjoy!**

**-M**

When lunch finally rolls around, I'm starving. I didn't think I'd be famished after just a few classes, but I now feel like...well, starved. I sigh, remembering all I brought was a thermos of lousy coffee.

"Hey, Tweek, come sit with us!" Kyle motions me over to the table, where some familiar faces and some new ones also sit.

"Thanks for taking me in, you guys." I smile.

"No problem. Who wouldn't take you in?" Kenny asks, winking. My face reddens as both Kyle's and Craig's eyes narrow.

Kenny raises his hands in surrender. "Dude, I'm just messing with him."

"Well, stop it. You're being a fucking perv." I hear Craig growl quietly.

"Fuck you, Tucker. Since when do you care?" Kenny raises an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I'm just sick of your lonely ass trying to pick up innocent people, I guess." Craig mutters. I twitch, as usual. And, as usual, Craig's perfect face is perfectly unreadable.

Kenny frowns, but then can't help but let his signature smirk crawl back over his face. Craig rolls his eyes, and I then know that Kenny can't hold a grudge.

"Tweek, where's your lunch?" asks a handsome brunette guy sitting next to Token.

"I—I don't have a lunch." I say. "Sorry, I don't think we've—ngh!—met."

"Oh." the boy says. "Well, I'm Clyde."

"N-Nice to meet you—ngh!—Clyde."

Clyde mimics my comment and continues to talk to Token. The two seem to have eyes for only each other. I smile a little at how cute they are, Clyde, with his muscular, rather stout body, and Token with his tallish, lanky one. They fit together perfectly.

"So, Tweek. What do you like to do?" Kyle asks, trying to make conversation. Before I can say anything, Craig interrupts.

"He writes." he states. "And it's amazing."

I feel myself blush. Craig gives me a warm look.

"Really?" Kenny asks, leaning over towards me. "Can I see?"

"Well...I guess so. But it's not—ngh!—done yet." I warn them, pulling out my notebook.

Kyle and Kenny crowd around the notebook, reading. Kyle's eyes widen and he gasps at the gory parts, but all Kenny does is chuckle under his breath.

"Dude, why are you laughing?" Kyle frowns at Kenny. "This story is so tragic."

"What can I say?" Kenny shrugs. "I have a really morbid sense of humor."

"Speaking of which." Token says, flicking his eyes over to a boy dressed all in black, his eyes gleaming red. Hanging from his neck is a pendant with the Antichrist symbol hanging from it. He was tall—almost Craig's height—and pretty thin, but muscles were pretty prominent underneath his tight shirt. I felt myself tense up, then even more so when Craig's hand touched my arm.

"Don't worry. It's only Damien."

"Hello." the dark boy said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Who are you."

"I'm—" I begin.

"Tweek Tweak." he finishes, smirking.

"Dude, stop reading minds. You're freaking him out." Craig glared at Damien.

"He looks pretty freaked out already to me." Damien said, chuckling.

"Well, yeah, you don't exactly just frolic over to some red-eyed kid dressed all in black with the Antichrist symbol hanging from his neck." Craig pointed out, his voice matter-of-fact. I let out a giggle.

"Well, whatever. I'm Damien. Son of Lucipher." he said.

God dammit. This town was so fucked up.

"N-Nice to m-meet you, Damien. Ngh!" I sputter out. I wasn't really sure if that was true or not. Damien seemed nice enough, but hanging out with him seemed like too much pressure. What if the son of Satan knew the gnomes? What if they all worked together to cause chaos in another realm? I sigh, trying to erase the ridiculous thought from my brain.

"Well, I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds alone now." Damien says, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Go make out with Frenchy, asshole." Craig gives him a look of distaste as he flips Damien off.

"Ees zere a probleme?" a nasal, heavily-accented voice comes from behind me. I jump and turn around to see a tanned guy with green pants and a matching shirt, dirty as fuck. Dangling from his mouth was a cigarette, and the uncaring look in his olive eyes made me twitch.

"Oh, 'ello zere." He gives me a grin. "'ho are you?"

"Tweek." I choke out. All these people. Too much pressure.

"You are new 'ere, aren't you? I am Christophe DeLorne. You 'ave met Damien, oui?" though his words are friendly, his thick French accent makes me extremely uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I've—ngh- met him." I shift around and take a swig of my now cold coffee, frowning at the disgusting taste.

Craig shoots me a look and leans in.

"Look, do you wanna get out of here and be alone for a while? I know meeting people sucks." he whispers in my ear, his cold breath makes a wave of shivers course through my body. I nod quietly.

"Well, eet was nice to meet you, Tweek." Christophe says politely, leaning in to kiss both of my cheeks. I know this is part of French culture, so I return the gesture. Craig then grabs my arm and drags me out of the lunchroom. Luckily, no people are outside.

"Thanks for—ngh—saving my ass, C-Craig." I say, relieved that I don't have to go through any introductions.

"No problem." he gives me a grin.

Wait, what?

I do a double take. Craig just grinned at me? Like, showed emotion?

"What?" he asks. As quickly as it had appeared, the feeling in Craig was gone.

"You just—ngh—you sm-smiled."

Craig sighs and smiles again. I feel my cheeks get red.

"So, Tweek. What do you think about all the other kids?"

"Token, Clyde, Kyle, and those guys are really c-cool. I don't—ngh!- really know about Damien yet." I say, suddenly feeling shy.

"Damien's a nice guy." Craig says, his eyes distant, like they were in English class. "You just have to look beyond the Satanic background and the red eyes." I nod. Damien seemed okay, now that Craig put it into perspective for me. God, Craig. Everything he said and did made me more anxious than usual.

"So...is—ngh—anyone an item in our school?" I blurt out, my thoughts controlling my mouth. I twitch again, on purpose.

"Well, Stan Marsh and Wendy Bitchass are an again...for today. Token and Clyde are quiet about it, and Damien and Christophe are a thing. And it's kinda obvious that Kyle has the hots for Kenny." Craig explains.

"Wh-What about you, C-Craig?" I ask, not looking him in the eye. Dammit! What the fuck was wrong with me today? Another outburst. I hope I wasn't developing Tourette's, like my friend Thomas. Oh, God. Another wave of panic crashes upon me. I twitch.

"Well, no one. Not really. But..." he trails off, looking off into nowhere again.

I look at him, telling him wordlessly to continue.

"I'm pretty sure I like you, Tweek." he murmurs, as his icy gaze shifts from the horizonline to me. The red hue of my face darkens, but I don't look away. Those eyes have me locked in. I can't ever escape the bottomless pits that are the grey pools of Craig Tucker.

"It's only my—ngh—first day. I've known you for—ngh—five hours." I say, finally breaking our eye contact.

"Tell me, Tweek." his voice is quiet as he steps behind me, leaning down so his head rests on my shoulder. "Have you enjoyed the past five hours?"

"Y-yes." I say, shaking with something that wasn't fear or anxiety. It was something like anticipation.

"So have I." he mumbles, his lips move so that they graze my neck, scarcely touching it. If it's even possible, my blush deepens. I thought that Craig was an emotionless but attractive guy that probably had no soul. The way he looked at me before was dull and unintelligible, but now the way he was looking at me reminded me of the way Coyote looks at Road Runner.

But I can't say I don't like it. That would be a lie.

I slowly exhale, but whatever air comes out is shaky from the pressure.

"Don't be nervous." Craig purrs. Slowly, he presses his lips down my neck, murmuring things I can't decipher. It feels great, I won't lie. For once, someone was paying attention to me. Showing love.

Right?

Suddenly, I wasn't so sure.

"C-Craig. We have to—ngh—get back to class." I say, hating that I have to break away from this moment, wishing it could last forever.

"I guess so." he says, straightening himself back up. His back cracks—I'm not surprised. After leaning down about eight inches, it must be uncomfortable. "Seeya later, Tweek."

It was as if a switch had gone off in his mind. His voice was flat and dull, like it was before this crazy shit happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter four! Thanks for reading and stuff. I put a scene with Christophe in there because he's one of my favorite SP characters. Hope you enjoy!**

**-M**

For the remainder of the day, I can't stay focused. My mind is back to lunch, thinking about Craig. What the fuck was he doing? And why?

When I get home, I drop my backpack and head straight for the shower. The hot water melts away my worries temporarily, but when I get out, he's in my mind again. I stare at myself in the mirror, looking at the small mark Craig left behind. Was he even gay, like I was? Maybe he had multiple personalities. Maybe he's part of a government study. Maybe he's working for the government and the mark he left on my neck is going to poison me and kill me! I twitch more than usual, my mind exhausted from all this thought. I pull on a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt and drag my backpack up the stairs. Might as well start my homework.

The problems stare at me menacingly on the page. I try to fight back and finish them as soon as possible, chugging down a cup of coffee in the process.

"Stupid math problems...—ngh!—" I can't even say something alone in my room without an outburst. I sigh again, but finish the Algebra questions, and resume thinking about Craig.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates. I scream and dig it out of my pocket. It's a text from an unknown number.

_Hey, we need to talk._

Even though I know who it's from, my fingers tremble as I write back.

_Who is this?_

My phone vibrates again, almost instantly.

_It's Craig. Look, that moment after lunch...I didn't really know what came over me. Can you be kind enough not to tell anyone about it? Even better, can we just forget about that and move on?_

There's a lump forming in my throat. I really like Craig, and he pretty much asked me to wipe my memory of the best moment of my life.

_Sure, no problem._ Is all I write back. After that, I put my phone on silent. Reading texts from your crush is too much pressure.

Though this problem had been dodged, I know it wasn't gone. Craig never told me he didn't enjoy it, that he didn't like me that way. In a way, it makes me both hopeful and scared. It seemed to me that there was two sides of that guy—one of which he kept hidden under a stony exterior. Craig Tucker really is a softie, even though he doesn't show it. I can't help but grin at the concept. The newfound happiness inside me makes

me numb enough to sleep—a rare occurance.

Craig doesn't look at me as I open my locker. His eyes are glued to the dial, focusing intensely on his combination. The memory of the scene that happened twenty-four hours ago makes me cringe and laugh softly at the same time. I head to my first class, which I didn't have with Craig. I take my seat and pull out my notebook, writing some more, and occasionally twitching, making unintentional gray marks on the paper. Finally giving up, I close it, cursing under my breath.

"'Ello, Tweek. 'Ow are you?" Christophe takes a seat next to me.

"Ngh! Fine." I say shyly.

Christophe smirks. "Really? Are you sure you are just fine? Because you and Craig seemed to be 'aving a lot of fun yesterday."

I feel all the color drain out of my face.

"What are you—ngh!—talking about?"

Christophe rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty sure you know what I am talkeeng about. You and Craig were fooling around after lunch. I saw eet wiz my own eyes."

A wave of panic sweeps over me as I try to explain to him without drawing attention to myself.

"No, we were—ngh!—we were...well, I d-don't know but...he t-told me that he didn't mean to—ngh!—do it..." I trail off as I finally quit trying, putting my head down on the table.

"Oh, but don't you see? 'E did mean it, Tweek." Christophe puts a reassuring hand on my back. I stiffen.

"Wh-what?"

He laughs. "I see ze way 'e was lookeeng at you yesterday. Eet's obvious zat 'e was trying to 'ide eet because 'e's afraid people will talk." I squeak a little in response.

"H-how do you know?"

"Cliche as it seems, cherie, ze French do know a zing or two about zis type of theeng." he murmurs quietly. "Now get yourself togezer, because everyone's lookeeng at us."

After that incident, the next few classes are a blur. In Algebra, I see Craig shooting me glances as I watch Kenny try his ridiculous pickup lines on Kyle. They seem to be working to some extent, because Kyle is blushing a deep red. Kyle looks over at me, an excited twinkle in his eye. Craig was right. It really did seem like he had the hots for Kenny.

"Tweek, could you tell us the value of x in this equation?" the teacher asks. For a moment, I disregard the comment, thinking she means someone else. Then Kyle elbows me in the ribs and I twitch.

"Go on. Tell us the answer." the teacher persists.

"I-I..." I stutter, realizing I wasn't paying attention. Desperate, I look at the equation, substituting and solving the parts of the problem. Everyone is staring at me expectantly. Normally, I would be able to solve this relatively quickly. But now, it's too much pressure. I start to panic.

Suddenly, in my peripheral vision, something catches my eye. It's Craig. He stares at me, mouthing a number—forty two.

It takes a while for me to understand, but I say the answer just in time for the old hag of a teacher to think I was being sincere.

"Good, I suppose you were paying attention." she mutters, turning back to the board.

I beam and mouth "thank you" to Craig. He gives me a quick smile, and then returns to his notes. I stifle a sigh. I could get addicted to those smiles if I wasn't careful.

Scratch that, I already was addicted to his smile.

At lunch, I think about what Christophe said to me earlier. He could've been right—Craig may have tried to take back the moment because he chickened out. But there might be another explanation, though I can't really think of anything that doesn't involve the government somehow.

"Tweek, you okay, man?" Kenny asks, knitting his brow. "You look kinda like you're in la-la land there."

"Oh...s-sorry." I stammer. "It's just a lot of stuff to take in. I'm still getting used to this school, and-ngh—having real friends and s-stuff."

Kenny nods understandingly, but Kyle looks unconvinced. I guess he decides to forget about it, because he continues to blush at Kenny's sleazy romantic comments.

I almost jump when something touches my foot under the table. It's someone else's leg touching mine. I know at once whose it is.

God damn, why was this kid messing with my head? First he starts by jumping me after knowing me for about six hours, then he takes it all back, then he just does it again. What the fuck was his problem?

Craig's foot is running up and down my leg. It feels nice, but I have to pull away. From across the table, his grey eyes burn into mine. I break the contact, looking over at Christophe, who has a permanent shit-eating smirk etched on his face.

He mouths, "I told you." I glare at him and flip him off.

Craig's stony gaze flickers a little, then turns into the hungry, seductive look he was giving me the same time yesterday. My face goes red, as if by magic, and I start to panic on the inside.

Soon enough, this guy is going to drive me insane.

**Tadaa! There's gonna be some partying in the next chapter, so stay tuned! Remember to review, because it makes me happy and motivated to write and stuff :3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay, a ton of chapters! **

**A quick note: There isn't going to be any smut in this story. It might get a little steamy now and then, but I suck at writing smut scenes, so...yeah. That's pretty much it! Enjoy chpter 5!**

**-M**

It has been a few weeks since my first few days in South Park, and I feel like I've fallen for Craig—hard. I think about how he stares at me every night, trying to decipher what's behind them. He has been showing more emotion lately; smiling, smirking, even laughing when Kenny gives Kyle's ass a smack. Life is good, and I'm hoping that it can stay that way.

"Hey, guys. You're all going to my party tonight, right?" Token asks as we sit down in our free period. The guys in our group nod—by our group, I mean me, Clyde, Kyle, Token, Christophe, Kenny, and Damien. Craig wasn't in my free period, unfortunately.

"Good." Token says. "Kenny, bring some booze, will ya?"

"No problem." Kenny says, giving Token a finger-gunshot and a wink. Kyle's eyes seem to soften. I suppress a giggle—Kenny was pretty fucking stupid not to just ask Kyle out, Kyle was crazy about him.

"I d-don't want to rain on your—ngh!—parade, guys, but I'm not that good with parties." I say, unsure.

"Don't worry, Tweekers." Clyde says, giving me a pat on the back. "You don't have to drink if you don't want to."

"Yeah, but it'll be more fun if you do." Kenny says, winking again. I laugh a little.

"Oui, and Craig ees going, you know." Christophe adds. By now, all the guys had found out about my crush on Craig, but all had sworn a vow of secrecy.

"Yep. Now you have to go." Token points out.

"F-Fuck you guys." I sigh. "Dammit, I'll go."

"Ha." Damien smirks. "Just mention Tucker, and the spaz will do anything."

Even though Damien was a part of our group, I still felt afraid of him. It wasn't really the way he looked anymore—it was just the way he acted. I don't trust him much, but I know I have to because he can read my mind anyway.

"Fuck you, D-Damien." I give him the finger and start on my homework. "Stupid fucking Antichrist..." I grumble under my breath as I start on my Algebra.

The car ride with Kenny was a loud one. It was me, him and Kyle. Everyone else was already there.

"We're going to a par-ty! We're going to a par-ty!" Kenny chants as he does a little dance in the backseat.

"God, my mom better not hear about this." Kyle says from behind the wheel, anxious. "I wasted twenty fucking dollars bribing Ike not to say anything."

"Don't worry, hot stuff." Kenny pats his arm, grinning. "Nothing bad'll happen."

"S-Says the guy that—ngh!—gets drunk off his ass at every party." I add, smirking.

"How do you know, Tweek? This is your first party here." Kenny says.

"Dude, its South Park." Kyle points out. "People know stuff."

"Whatever. The point is, it's his first party. So I need to show him how it's done here." Kenny says, adding a little party whoop after finishing his sentence. God, if this is him sober, I can't imagine how he is drunk.

As we enter Token's house, there are already a ton of people. The thump of music can be heard, but I can't make out anything but the bass through the huge sea of people. Already, panic starts to set in. There are too many people here. I might drown!

"Don't worry, Tweekers." Kenny pats me on the back and hands me a cold beer. "Just have a drink."

I glance at the beer in disgust, but crack the can open nonetheless and take a sip. Surprisingly, it really isn't that bad. I decide to go along with it, beer in hand. Kyle and Kenny have faded away into the crowd. I spot Craig with a beer, too, leaning on the wall, glaring at a shitfaced couple next to him who were making out. When he spots me, he immediately walks over.

"Hey, Tweek!" he shouts over the loud thump of the music. "Did you just get here?"

I nod, not bothering to yell over the noise.

"I don't usually come to parties, but Token kinda forced me into it this time. It's weird, he never really did that before." he says. I try to shout a reply, but the music is too loud.

"Do you wanna dance?" he asks, looking at the couple again. The guy had his hands up the girl's shirt, and hers were in his pants. I nod again frantically.

"Let's go." he takes my hands and drags me through the crowd to the floor, where other couples are grinding. Craig moves to the beat, the tassels on his chullo bobbing along with him. Near us, Clyde and Token are dancing together, both of them flipping their hair out of their eyes and sweating. We continue to dance for a while, watching the other couples practically fucking in public.

Suddenly, the thumping stops and a slow, ballad-like guitar riff echoes through the room. I recognize this song as Stairway to Heaven. Craig seems to, too, because he's pulling on the tassels of his chullo and looking around nervously.

Finally, he puts down his beer on a table and takes a step towards me.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks quietly, his eyes averting mine.

"S-Sure." I answer, in a state of shock and joy. On the outside, I probably look shy, but on the inside, my stomach is doing somersaults. The guy I have liked is asking me to dance! The girliness of it all is overwhelming, but in a good way. As his arms snake around my waist, I have to make an effort to get mine over his shoulders, that are a good six inches above my own. Around us, girls are putting their heads on their boys' chests, and the guys are looking at one another, giving each other thumbs ups. Clyde and Token look at me and Craig dancing and do the same. Craig and I flip them off at the same time. Taken aback, Craig turns to look down at me.

"That was..."

"...The universe giving us a freebie." I finish.

"Yeah." Craig agrees. Is it the light, or do I really see a blush forming on his face?  
"Look, Tweek. I have to tell you something." Craig says, now looking me right in the eye. "A couple weeks ago, when that...thing happened...with us...I didn't mean to take it back."

My eyes widen, and I give him a small nod.

"I really do...like you, Tweek. And it was fucked up of me to just try to hide that." he goes on, grey irises still burning into mine.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. The alcohol has helped a little, but my brain is still screaming at me: Don't fuck this up!

"I like you too, Craig." I say, without seems to notice, because his eyes widen a little.

"Really?" he asks. They look innocent, sweet. Instantly, I pull myself in closer to him, letting my head rest on his chest, like all the other couples. As I do this, I hear an "aww" come from Token and Clyde, and, without looking at them, flip them off again.

"Yep." I murmur into his chest, hearing his heart beat fast underneath me. "I have since the first day." It may be the alcohol talking, but I feel completely calm right now.

"You seem pretty calm." Craig says, amused.

"Well, you have that beer can to thank." I say. Craig chuckles quietly, a sound that rumbles in his throat and vibrates through his chest. It feels great.

He pulls away from me suddenly, and my heart sinks a little.

"Hey, have you seen any of the others?" Craig asks, looking around.

"We're right here." Token points out from next to us.  
"Not you, asshole." Craig mutters, but I know he's just joking.

"Well, I'm pretty sure Kenny and Kyle went upstairs, but Goth Boy and Frenchy are in the living room with everyone else." Clyde says.

"Thanks." Craig says quickly as he takes my hand.

"Where are we—ngh!—going?" I ask. Dammit, my stutter came back.

"We're going to ruin the moment." Craig says, a smirk crawling across his face.

"Yay! Something I specialize at doing!" I joke. Craig laughs again. God, I'm getting addicted to that quiet, low chuckle.

"Dammit, Token's house is fucking ginormous." Craig grumbles as he weaves his way through other wasted individuals, who let out a shout of protest. Craig flips them all off and finally clears a path to the living room. As we near the place, we hear chants of "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

When we finally shove our way through the crowds of people, we spot a few people passed out on the couch. But everyone is focusing on the two guys fighting on the floor.

It's Christophe and Damien.

They both have discarded their shirts, and are wrestling on the floor. Damien's body is easy to make out from Christophe's; he has a rather lanky physique, tall with only slightly defined muscle, and milky pale skin. Adorning his shoulder is a tattoo of a dragon, spitting a magnificent flame of fire. I'm not very surprisd, he was probably born with it or something. Christophe, on the other hand, is a bit shorter, with large muscles and tanned, sweaty skin. I see a couple of girls whispering and swooning over the two boys.

"I thought they were—" I begin, puzzled.

"They are together." Craig interrupts. "They like to fight, though. There's definitely a dominance problem between them."

The crowd whoops as Damien finally pins down Christophe, the French boy struggling underneath him. Damien's seductive grin is one of triumph. He had won—this time.

"Sorry, Tophe." Damien whispers in Christophe's ear. "But I win."

"Fuck you, Damien." Christophe says through clenched teeth, obviously angry. But his hazel eyes show amusement as the Antichrist leans down and gives him a bruising kiss on the lips. Sure enough, they're wrestling again, their mouths still connected.

"There isn't really a moment to ruin here..." Craig says, pouting.

"Dammit." I say, smiling at how cute the couple is. Who would've thought a cynical Frenchman and the son of Satan would be cute together? No one, really.

"Well, I guess we need to go upstairs, then. Although, I'm kinda scared..." Craig says, with mock fear. I roll my eyes and drag him back towards the stairs and we climb up.

The main hallway has tons of doors around it, but we don't need to look any farther.

Sure enough, there they are. Kenny pushing Kyle against the wall, kissing him ferociously. They looked like they were dining on each other, weird as it sounds. Craig looks at me, and I nod. We sneak up on either side of them and Craig mouths one, two, three. On three, we scream.

"BOO!"

"AUGGHH!" They yell, breaking apart. They both glare at us.

"You mother fuckers." Kenny says.

"Excuse me, but I think you two were the ones doing the fucking." Craig retorts with a small laugh.

"Shut up, Craig." Kyle says, fixing his hair frantically, trying to rid himself of the evidence.

"Yeah, if anything, I bet you two are gonna fuck." Kenny says, obviously a little tipsy. Craig looks at me sheepishly.

"Yeah, go ahead." Kyle smirks, obviously drunk, too. "Kiss him, Craig!"

Craig glares at Kyle for a moment, then looks down at me. Slowly, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in closer. I take a deep breath and put my arms loosely around his neck, for the second time in that night. Craig leans in—no, down- and I close my eyes, feeling his lips scarcely touching mine. They're soft, gentle, and a bit chapped.

As if a switch had turned off in his mind, his lips then met mine with force, like he'd been wanting to do this for a long time. I react instantly, kissing back with hopefully as much vigor as he is. I hear Kenny and Kyle catcalling and whistling, but I don't care. All I care about is Craig, Craig, Craig.

I feel his tongue outline my lips and I open my mouth to let him in. His tongue strokes mine in a calming way, which helps my hands stop shaking in anticipation.

"Let's leave them alone." I hear Kenny say, and they shuffle away.

Craig breaks away from me, and I take a much needed breath. His eyes are back to the way they were on my first day. I love those eyes.

Without warning, he pushes me against the wall and kisses my jaw and down my neck. I let out a breath of euphoria. This is where I want to be forever.

"Are you enjoying this, Tweek?" he murmurs against my neck, his voice low and quiet.

"Sh—shut up. Gah!" I let out an outburst of shock as he bites down on my collar bone. I hear him chuckle again, and now I know what sexiness sounds like.

"Craig, you do know that you drive me crazy, right?" I whisper.

"Yep." he mumbles in my ear. "And I know you love it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, guys! Sorry for not updating for a few days...I couldn't really think of much to write. But finally, I thought of something. I need to give a quick shout-out to Style Marshlovski for giving me ideas, even though I didn't really use them xD. But still, they've been supporting me through this ever since I started this story, so yeah!**

**Okay, enjoy this chapter!**

**-M**

Monday is hell. Pure hell.

As I walk down the hallway, guys snicker. I hear snippets of their conversations, all of them containing a homophobic word of some kind. I wish I was like Craig, where I could just flip them off and forget about them. But I can't. Because, I must reiterate, I'm a twitchy coffee addict that has panic attacks and is afraid of anything that has mass and takes up space.

The girls are less mean about it, giving me winks and smiles as I speedwalk through the locker area, trying to get the fuck out of there. Some, though—the popular ones—give me glares. Craig is a gorgeous guy. No wonder they would be mad at me for "turning him gay."

Which makes me wonder. How is Craig going to react to this? I guess I'll find out, because I turn to my locker, finding the small space around it deserted—except for, of course, the six-foot-something guy standing right next to the place I had to go.

"Hey, Tweekers." he says, shooting me a grin that I know only I can see. "How's it going?"

"B-Bad. People are—ngh!—talking about us." I say, motioning over to the main hall.

"Let them." Craig says, patting my shoulder. "It doesn't matter what they say."

"Well, you do know that some of the girls are—ngh!—jealous, right?" I ask.

"They are?" Craig lifts an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised, and, to my dismay, amused. "Why would they be?"

"Because, look at yourself! You're—gah!—freaking gorgeous, dude!" I exclaim. They're, like all over you." I then add, quietly.

"Oh, is someone getting a bit jealous?" Craig pokes me in the ribs softly, grinning even more at my jolt in reaction. If he wears that grin anymore, I swear, he's gonna turn into Kenny.

"I—I'm not jealous!" I say, crossing my arms, trying to stand up to Craig, but my five-foot-six height wouldn't let me look dominant at all.

Craig just looks at me, his icy grey eyes show that he's just joking around. The way they change when he's in different moods makes me feel captivated, locked into his gaze.

"Sure, Tweek." he says faintly, still smiling.

"Craig?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we, like...t-together, now?" I ask, moving my hands toward him and back.

"Only if you want to be." he says, stepping towards me, making my back hit the lockers. He leans down to plant a sweet kiss on my lips, and I smile into it. In my peripheral vision, someone walks by and whistles. Craig keeps his lips on mine, but lifts his hand to flip the guy off. I smile and break away from Craig. He pouts a little.

"I've gotta get to class." I explain, trying to get on my tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Dammit! I-I can't reach!"

Craig sighs in mock annoyance, and leans down. I give him a quick one on the cheek and bounce off to History, feeling as light as a feather.

Lunch rolls around and, as usual, I don't have anything to eat. Only coffee.

"Look, it's the two lovebirds." Token smirks as Craig and I take a seat.

"You're one to talk." Kenny snickers at Token. "You and Clyde sure did have a lot of fun Friday night, didn't you?"

Clyde turns a deep shade of red, but Token just smiles with a proud look on his face.

"Yep, we sure did." he says, giving Clyde a wink. Clyde blushes an even deeper shade of red.

"You guys 'ad sex, oui?" Christophe asks, wiggling his eyebrows. God, that guy can be so blunt. Are French people usually like that? I would ask, but I'd probably get a punch from Christophe and a one-way ticket to hell from Damien.

"Guys, I think we're officially dubbed the 'fag' table." Damien points out, air quoting the offensive word.

"Yeah. But hey, who cares?" Craig says, shrugging.

"I care!" Kyle glares. "What is Cartman going to say?"

Ah, Cartman. The alleged "fatass" wasn't anymore. I've only seen him a few times, but he was short and stocky, and hung out with that Marsh kid, who was the quarterback of the football team. He always had girls hanging off him, but he had a thing with one of them, but it never lasted. Apparently, the two used to hang out with Kyle and Kenny, but then, in junior high, Cartman began to lose weight and annoyed poor Kyle even more, because now that he was thin, there wasn't really anything Kyle could annoy him about. Kyle got frustrated and left, taking Kenny with him. He told us the saga about a month ago, when Cartman had teased him in Phys Ed for being a faggot.

"I sure do have a lot to say."

And there he was, his snide voice cutting through my thoughts sharply.

"Let me just tell you this, Kyle. You. Are. A. Fag." he growls, putting his face close to Kyle's. The redhead started to sweat with anger. He couldn't deny the statement—it would be a lie to do so. And everyone knows that Kyle Broflovski doesn't fucking lie.

"Get out of my face." Kyle says through clenched teeth.

"Make me, Jewfro." Cartman snickers.

"Damien, do somezing!" Christophe whispers to Damien. He shakes his head.

"I can't. Principal Bitchass said I can't use my powers on people or I'll get expelled." Christophe rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, letting out a puff of smoke from his cigarette, showing his frustration.

"Have anything to say, Frenchy?" Cartman asks, looking over to Christophe.

"_Va te faire foutre." _Christophe replies sharply.

"You do get that no one understands what you're saying, right?" another voice from behind us asks. I see Kyle's face blanche. There, standing behind me, is Stan Marsh.

"S-Stan." Kyle chokes out.

"Yep, that's my name." he says.

I see Clyde and Token get up and move to a different table. I wouldn't blame them—getting into this kind of shit was too much pressure. But I wasn't going to ditch Kyle—he needed me.

"F-Fuck off." I say softly, shooting an apologetic look at Kyle, wishing I could've said something more powerful.

"Who's gonna make us, spaz? You, or your beanpole boyfriend? He has as much muscle in his whole body as I do in my pinky finger."

Craig's eyes flash. "Yeah, and all that muscle is found right...here." he says, lifting up his middle finger at Cartman.

"Craig, I don't think flipping people off is gonna get us—ngh!—out of this." I whisper into his ear.

"Why? Why the FUCK are you doing this?" Kenny finally speaks, putting his arm over Kyle protectively. "Go find a pole to shove up your ass, Cartman."

"What makes you think that he needs a pole up his ass?" Stan asks, a sneer on his face, but an unsure look in his eyes.

"Because no one else will put theirs up there." Kenny sneers right back. I'm actually tempted to clap at the amazing comeback. Just as I'm about to give Kenny a good pat on the back, he gets a big pat in the face, knocking him out cold. Cartman stands over him, his right hand still outstretched.

"That's what you get for mouthing off at me, wiseass." he mutters.

"Anyone else got a problem with Cartman?" Stan asks.

"Try me." Cartman says, popping the collar of his South Park varsity jacket. He follows the action with many "whassup"s and about eighty different arm movements that make him have a false sense of swag. But right now, he just looks like an idiot.

"_Arrete, connard."_ Christophe stands and walks over to Cartman, hovering over the stocky boy, about a head taller than him.

"I have no fucking idea what you're saying, dude." Cartman snickers.

"Tell 'im what I said, Damien. I want 'im to zrow ze first punch." Christophe addresses Damien. He nods without question. Those two have a really weird relationship.

"He called you an asshole. And, quite honestly, I agree with him." Damien says, cocking an eyebrow. Christophe gets a prompt punch in the face, but he returns it without hesitation.

"Give it up, Frenchy. Go eat a croissant, or something." Stan says, trying to pull them apart. But Christophe isn't giving up. He's punching the shit out of Cartman, letting out a string of French words that I guess are profanity under his breath.

"Why don't you take your fucking cliches somewhere else, you bastard?" Kyle jumps up in front of Stan. Stan's way taller than Kyle, but the look on Kyle's face makes him look about eight inches taller.

"Why don't you just shut your fucking mouth?" Stan glares. They start throwing punches, too—Kyle's are inexperienced and barely make a dent, but Stan's blows make bruises blossom over Kyle's face.

"This is getting ugly." Craig murmurs in my ear, putting an arm over my shoulder. I accept it without protest, realizing in doing so that I'm shaking.

"How cute." Another jock boy creeps up from my side. I jump and Craig holds me tighter. "Faggy love."

I recognize the boy as Kevin Stoley, an ex-friend of Craig's, before he became a total dick. Suddenly, I feel myself being lifted off the ground by the guy, and immediately I start to kick and scream and violently throw punches at the air, earning a dark chuckle from Kevin. I probably looked like a rabid animal, my hair fluffing out all over the place and my limbs moving aimlessly.

"Let me—ACK!—go! You—ngh!—piece of sh-shit!" I cry out, trying to get free from his iron hold. All I get in return is a fist in my face. I can hear my bones crack as his knuckles make contact with my cheek. A wave of pain almost knocks me out, but I manage to twist around in a way that makes Kevin's arm go almost in a full circle. He whimpers at the pain, and I am free.

I look at my options—I could run, I could stay and fight Kevin, or I could do nothing. Fight, flight, or freeze.

For once, I choose to fight.

Another guy is holding Craig back, putting him into a headlock. Craig's face is turning red from lack of air. They were just joking at first, now it's getting fucking serious.

"CMON, MAN! KICK HIS ASS!" I hear Damien yell at Christophe. He's just sitting at the table, enjoying the view. I guess those jocks are afraid he's use his Satanic powers or something, so they aren't touching him.

"Running out of air, huh?" the jock holding Craig taunted, who I then realized was that kid whose face was always covered with dirt. Craig told me about him. He was nicknamed Dog Poo, and still is today. But finally, he cleaned up his act—no pun intended—and joined the football team.

Craig let out a small whimper, which was all I needed to snap.

This guy was fucking with my boyfriend.

He will die.

That's all that goes through my head: He will die. He will die.

I grab Dog Shit's collar and deliver a straight, firm punch in the face. It's satisfying to see his nose bleed after just one punch. I pull him up onto the cafeteria wall and punch him in the stomach multiple times.

"DON'T. FUCK. WITH. CRAIG. YOU. ASSHOLE!" I holler between punches. Finally, I let him go, and he falls into a fetal position, crying and spluttering like a baby.

"'ATTA BOY, TWEEK!" Damien bellows, his low voice easily heard among the multitude of other ones.

"Does anyone else want to fuck with C-Craig?" I ask softly, my voice dripping with venom. The room goes silent.

"Good. Now all of you football assholes leave my friends and I the FUCK ALONE!" I yell out the last part, making everyone jump. They all return to their seats, murmuring.

"That new kid kicks ass."

"Did you see the football guy crying? Sweet!"

"Yeah, I didn't think that Tweek kid had it in him."

"I guess we were wrong, huh?"

The chorus of voices finally gives me a clue.

This was all

Too

Much

Pre—

I can't think of the last syllable before I feel a sharp pain in my head and I black out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sort of a filler chapter. Sorry, you guys. I also hate to say it, but this story is gonna end a bit sooner than I expected. Don't worry, though-I'm going to write another story after this, and it'll be longer. Its gonna be a Dristophe (Damien x Christophe) I love that pairing so much, and I think it needs more love. Big thanks to anyone who has read, favorited, reviewed, etc for all of your support. I love you all 3**

**Enjoy!**

**-M**

"Tweek! TWEEK! Wake the fuck up!"

A firm hand shakes my shoulder and my eyes snap open.

"AHH! DON'T KILL ME!" I say, instinctively, tensing up. The hand's grip on my shoulder gets tighter. I relax when I see gleaming red eyes staring at me in annoyance.

"Damien?" I narrow my eyes. In doing this, I feel a sharp pain. Dammit, my eye must be all purple. "Why are you here? Oh, God. Did I die, or something! I WAS GOOD! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO GO TO HELL! ACK!"

"Tweek—" The Antichrist begins.

"NO! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I don't let him finish.

"TWEEK! Dude, chill out. You're in the nurse's office."

"O-Oh." I say quietly, and, sure enough, the awkward smell of rubber gloves and cleaning products fills my nose. I hate that smell.

"Yeah, smartass. You got knocked out. So did Craig." his eyes flicker to the cot beside mine, and sure enough, there's Craig. He's so tall, his feet stick out from the bed and the thin blanket only covers half of his leg. He's still out cold, and it breaks my heart when I notice the bruises and scratches all over his face.

"Is-Is he okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just a little shook up. By the way, don't freak out. Your teachers know you're here." Damien says, reading my mind. I'm not sure if that's just a figure of speech or not, in this case.

"Wh-What about Cartman? And Stan, and those guys?" I whirl around, making sure they aren't here.

"They're in the office. But the principal says she wants to see you Craig, and Tophe, too." he glances toward another cot. There's Christophe, sitting up on the cot, smoking a cigarette and reading a book. He gives me a _salut _and returns to his book.

"Oh, God! We're in such deep shit! ACK!" I say nervously, biting on my nails.

"Not really." Damien shrugs. "It was only self-defense."

I relax, just a little, at this statement. It was true. We were just defending ourselves. If we didn't, we'd probably be either in the hospital or dead by now.

"Y-Yeah. What about Kyle?" I raise an eyebrow.

"'E ees in class." Christophe cuts in, walking over to sit with Damien. "Since 'e never gets into trouble, 'e didn't 'ave to go zrough wiz any punishment."

"What about us?" a voice from behind me says groggily. Craig has gotten up from lying on the bed.

"We probably have to face it." Damien sighs, as Christophe puts a reassuring arm around him.

"Tweek, are you okay?" Craig rushes up to me and pulls me closer, checking my wounds.

"I'm fine." I sigh. "What about you?"

"Aching in pretty much ever part of my body, but other than that, I'm okay. 'Tophe, how about you."

"I've 'ad worse. Much, much worse." he says, green eyes stony.

"So...now what?" Craig asks, looking at the clock.

"I don't really know." Damien shrugs.

"Well, I guess we should get to class or something." I suggest awkwardly.

"We still 'ave to see ze principal. I would just forget about eet, but I don't want to get in even worse sheet than we are already in right now." Christophe sighs, playing with Damien's Antichrist pendant.

"Can't you, like, make time rewind or something, so we don't have to go through this shit?" Craig mutters to Damien, his eyes a dull, stormy grey.

"I can, but the whole universe's time would stop and rewind too, not just yours." Damien sighs, taking his head in his hands. "Nothing I can do."

"Dammit." Craig groans, clutching his neck. "That Dog Crap guy has a really hard grip. Thanks for saving me, Tweek. I thought I was gonna die."

"No problem." I say, a small smile forming on my lips.

"You should smile more often." Craig murmurs softly. "It's cute."

"Oh, 'ere it comes, Damien. All zis love sheet." Christophe says flatly.

Craig flips the Frenchman off and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in so that I'm in his lap.

"I'm glad you're okay, Tweekers." he whispers in my ear as he plays with my hair.

"I'm k-kinda surprised I actually fought..." I trail off, losing my train of thought as Craig nibbles on my ear an starts kissing down my neck.

"Yeah. You're hot when you're angry." he mumbles. There it is again. That sultry vice that makes my heart pound.

"Get a room." I hear Christophe grumble from next to me.

"Calm down, 'Tophe." Damien says.

"Don't tell me to calm down, ass'ole." Christophe growls.

"Make me." Damien purrs sadistically. I hear rustling, and the two are on the floor, fighting again. I sigh, annoyed.

"They're at it again." I say dully.

Craig chuckles as he nips my collarbone, a low rumble that makes me want him even more. If we weren't in a nurse's office, I could've jumped him right then and there and kissed him.

"Craig, come on, we're in school." I whisper. He pulls away and pouts.

"But they're fighting, and they're in school." he whines, motioning to Damien and Christophe, who are wrestling on the floor. Christophe is winning this time, grinning as he pins the Antichrist down.

"I don't care what the other kids are doing." I smirk, playing along with his little-kid-and-his-mother game.

"But Tweeeek!" he gives me mock puppy-dog eyes that make me melt a little inside. They have a gleam in them that shows how amused he is.

"Shh." I put a finger to his lips.

"But why not?" he asks.

"It's be awkward, you know? Having a teacher walk in and see us making out."

"So?" Craig asks, raising an eyebrow. "They've walked in on Kenny smoking weed before, and all he got was a talking-to, not really anything serious."

"I just don't really like the idea of it..." I say shyly, looking down at my feet.

"That's alright." Craig says, giving me a peck on the cheek. "I can give you kisses at home."

"You mean, like at—your house?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Yeah." Craig says softly, playing with the loose thread on his sweatshirt. "I want you to meet my parents."


	8. Chapter 8

**Here it is! The final chapter of the story. It's been a lot of fun, even though I wrote this thing in a really short time. I think the ending's pretty cute. Maybe I'll write a oneshot sometime in the future or something. But now I'm gonna focus on my Christien (Thank you, Style Marshlovski for the pairing name, so ironic) story, which I have all planned out and stuff. It's gonna be longer than this one, hopefully, and definitely not as fluffy as this one. Hopefully. I love fluff :3**

**But yeah, enjoy the final chapter!**

**-M**

Craig has flipped off the principal about fourteen times, but she continues to give us a long and pointless lecture about how violence shouldn't be reacted to with more violence, and how it was wrong of us to be gay or something but it was against the law to expel us for that reason and blardy, blardy, blar. Maybe she could cure my insomnia, because through the lecture I practically fall asleep on Craig's shoulder.

"Okay, now you boys have to sit in the lobby. As for you, Mr. Thorn, I know your parents won't be coming, so...go with DeLorne, then." she barks. We obey and I take a seat in one of the cheap, lumpy school chairs.

"God, my ass hurts." Craig mumbles as he sits down. I let out a small, quiet giggle. His eyes are warm when he looks at me.

"This is really cheesy, but your laugh makes my ass feel better." Craig says, laughing.

"Thank you...?" I say, unsure of how to respond.

"No problem."

"CRAIG!" A sharp, irritating voice rings through the room, making me jump. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THIS TIME?"

"Mom, I'm right here." Craig sighs, a small blush forming on his cheeks. I give him a smirk.

"What happened,? You're in big trouble, mister." she says, eyes blazing. Though her son towers over her, she obviously intimidates him, because his eyes look panicked and nervous.

I look at Mrs. Tucker, a small, blond woman who looks nothing like her son. Her face is round, while Craig's is made up of sharp angles that frame his chin and cheekbones. It's a wonder to me that they're related.

"Mom, these kids were making fun of us—"

"Which kids? And who's 'us'" Mrs. Tucker cuts Craig off.

"Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh, Kevin Stoley, and...that Dog Poo guy." he says the last part slowly, not really knowing the guy's real name. "And by us, I mean me, Tweek, 'Tophe, and Kyle. And Damien was there, but he didn't really get... shook up, like we did."

Craig explains quickly, cowering under his mother's stony gaze. Their eyes had the same effect—different colors, maybe—but they both were captivating and hypnotizing.

"Shook up? Did they hurt you, Craigypoo?" her eyes soften and she checks him for injuries. Craig's face gets bright red. I suppress a snicker. But on the inside, I yearn to be Craig right now, to have a mother that actually cares for me.

"Mom!" Craig exclaims, gently prying Mrs. Tucker off him.

"What, sweetie?"

"Mom, this is Tweek. He sort of... saved me from those guys."

"It's—ngh!—nice to meet you." I say, sticking out my hand for a shake, but she goes all-out for a hug.

"You saved my Craigy! Thank you so, so much!" she exclaims, pulling away after a tight squeeze. "Ah, yes! The Tweak boy! I go to your shop every day and get a coffee. Best place in town!" she says, smiling widely.

Craig looks down at his feet, avoiding Mrs. Tucker's eyes. "Well, Mom, Tweek's my, uh...my boyfriend." he says quietly. The redness of his face deepens, and I feel my heart melt a bit. He looks so cute when he's embarassed.

"Oh?" Mrs. Tucker says, raising an eyebrow, tehn, to Craig's relief, smiling. "Well, that's just fine! If he saved you from some mean boys, I love him already."

Now I'm the one blushing.

"I'm not really sure what Thomas will say, but I'm sure he won't mind." Mrs. Tucker assures Craig, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for understanding, Mom." Craig says, grinning widely as he walks over to me and slips an arm around my waist.

"Tweek, honey. Where is your mother?" Mrs. Tucker asks, looking around.

"She's probably working at the shop with my dad." I say softly. "They don't really have time for this kind of thing."

"Aww, sweetie. I can give you a ride home, if you like. It's pretty cold out there. I don't want you to freeze."

My smile gets wider, and I glance in the direction of Christophe. He's watching the conversation, a happy look in his eyes. He looks me in the eye and shoots me—for a split second—a small grin before returning to his book.

"S-Sure, that'd be great. Thanks, Mrs. T-Tucker." I stammer.

"Well, come on, then. Let's go." she says, pulling us along to her small blue car. God, this family likes the color blue. The car ride is a great one. Mrs. Tucker makes conversation and laughs at my lame jokes. Craig looks somewhat flustered and overwhelmed. For once, I feel like we've switched roles for a short time—me being the calm one and him being the twitcher. It makes me happy to finally be relaxed, but the feeling is foreign, unknown. I don't like it. Being on edge is much more...in my element., so to speak.

When we pull up to my house, don't want to get out of the car.

"It was so nice to meet you, Tweek, dear." Mrs Tucker says warmly. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"Y-Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Tucker." I say. giving her a final smile before walking into my house.

I walk in, put my bag and jacket on the floor, and head for the kitchen to brew myself a warm, steamy cup of decaf French Roast.


End file.
